Hivebent Rewritten
by calandoKeyboardist
Summary: A game that should have never been played. Friends that should have never died. People that should have never been hurt. Kids that should have never been scarred. A universe created from it all. Read along this epic tale of moirails and matesprits and find out how this author will stop making such generic sounding summaries.
1. Author's Note

Hello to everyone reading this! My name is calandoKeyboardist and this is my AU that you'll be reading from this point onward. Please note that this AU is based entirely on Homestuck however with my OC Cantio Grisom being inserted in. In this AU she is the 13th player of Sgrub and was on the Red Team. This AU will be rewriting Hivebent to suit this. I will begin from the first pages of Hivebent and I am still debating on where to end. So without further adieu, let's begin this story!

~calandoKeyboardist


	2. Chapter 1

**~ACT 5 = = ~ **

Elsewhere in paradox space, we examine another planet, forgotten by time.

But we will strive to remember. What was this planet's name?

**~Enter name.**

Oh, ha ha! Nice one, smartypants. Really hilarious.

But let's get real here. No more clowning around.

**~Try again. **

That is much better. In fact, as it happens, your guess is precisely correct. What are the odds?

We examine the planet ALTERNIA. Somewhere on this planet, there is a young troll.

**~Hivebent**

This young troll stands in his respiteblock. It just so happens that today, the 12th bilunar perigee of the 6th dark season's equinox, is the day of this young troll's larval awakening, also known as his wriggling day. Though it was six solar sweeps ago he was given life, it is only today he will be given a name!

Six Alternian solar sweeps, for convenient reference, is equivalent to thirteen Earth years.

Earth, also for convenient reference, is a planet that does not yet exist.

What will the name of this young troll be?

**~Enter name.**

You enter something predictably derogatory and this guy gets fed up by your shenanigans in record time.

This guy has a lot of troll pals and their adventures are going to be quite extensive and convoluted, to an even greater degree than one perhaps may be accustomed. He thinks that if you think that we have time to drag out every little gag and expected pattern along the way, you've got another thing coming. He thinks you should cram that sobering understanding in your chitinous windhole, and tamp it down hard with your ugly stupid looking cartilage nub.

**~Try again.**

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS. As was previously mentioned, it is your WRIGGLING DAY, which is barely even worth mentioning. It is an anniversary, if anything, to lament the faults of your existence, of which there are assuredly plenty.

Equally plenty, and somewhat related to that topic, are your INTERESTS. You have a passion for RIDICULOUSLY TERRIBLE ROMANTIC MOVIES AND ROMCOMS. You should really be EMBARRASSED for liking this DREADFUL CINEMA, but for some reason you are not. You like to program computers, but you are NOTORIOUSLY PRETTY AWFUL AT IT. Your programs invariably damage the machines on which they are executed, which is just as well, since you like to believe you specialize in COMPUTER VIRUSES. You actually have TWO FRIENDS who are MUCH BETTER then you at it. When you mature, you aspire to join the ranks of the most lethal members of your society, the THRESHECUTIONERS. You like to practice with your REALLY COOL SICKLE, but just wind up looking like KIND OF A DOOFUS BY YOURSELF IN YOUR ROOM.

You like to chat with some of your other troll pals, most of which drive you BATSHIT UP THE FUCKING BELFRY. You have been trying out a new chat client beta called TROLLIAN, and you are NOT REALLY SURE WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT IT YET. Your trolltag is carcinoGeneticist and you speak in a manner that is ALMOST EXCLUSIVELY ORNERY, ALL THE TIME.

Later, you will play a game with 6 other friends, and go on a big adventure with them. This game, for convenient reference, is a game that DOES NOT YET EXIST.

But it will soon.

What will you do?

**~Karkat: Examine slimy purple pod.**

It is your RECUPERACOON full of nourishing SOPOR SLIME. Every young troll enjoys the cozy embrace of such a vessel each night, and the relaxing ooze helps assuage the terrible visions of blood and carnage that plague the dark subconscious of your species.

It is so inviting... a few minutes couldn't hurt.

**~Karkat: Get in. **

Ok, this sure is cozy and all, but you can't be napping all day like a chump. Dammit, you're a busy guy. You are sort of a big deal.

Goddamn slime. Now you have to change your clothes too. What were you thinking?

Luckily all your clothes are the same. Trolls think fashion is stupid.

**~Karkat: Examine movie posters.**

Ok, it's time to get serious here. Sweet Troll Jegus. Let's get real and get down to some major business.

You space out and get caught up reading the titles of the films for about five minutes. Wow these movies are great. You don't care what anyone says. Pure magic.

Is that...

Is that John Cusack?

The thing that most people don't realize is that John Cusack is a universal constant.

This movie...

Ok, this one even you have a hard time defending. But still, it's so good.

The best thing about it is how Troll Sandler doesn't make you want to punch anything.

Like, nothing at all, really hard or anything.

**~Karkat: Captchalogue sickle.**

_The sickle is captchalogued and put into a large vault. _

You grab your trusty SICKLE with your ENCRYPTION MODUS. To retrieve it, you'll need to hack the code to open the CARD VAULT left behind.

This will obviously prove to be a completely ridiculous and untenable way of managing an inventory, and lead to a great many follies. Later on, you would swap your modus with your hacker friend, a guy who unlike you happens to be competent with programming. It would only make sense.

But for the time being it makes your life kind of a nightmare. There are so many stupid things that happen because of this modus. So many, you just have no idea.

**~Karkat: Take card vault.**

_The already heavy and large vault is placed into an even heavier and larger one which falls through the floor._

GOD.

DAMMIT.

You hear some unhappy grumbling through the hole below. This was not the coolest thing you could have done just now.

**~Karkat: Examine large black book.**

You make quite sure NOT to captchalogue it, and simply pick it up and read it.

It is a thick programming manual called "~ATH - A HANDBOOK FOR THE IMMINENTLY DECEASED."

~ATH is an insufferable language to work with. Its logic is composed of nothing but infinite loops, or at best, loops of effectively interminable construction.

The above page in the intro section documents the simplest possible ~ATH code structure. Any code deviating from this basic structure will not compile.

You have a whole bunch of code samples you've been messing around with on your computer. It's been frustrating at best, and debilitating to your machine at worst.

**~Karkat: Leave your room.**

You step outside your respiteblock, onto one of your hive's numerous extraterraneal landing slats. You were allowed to design this hive when you were young, after you emerged victorious from your trials deep in the brooding caverns. You have lived here with your CUSTODIAN ever since.

It's almost as if your people have placed great cultural importance on teaching children to become architecturally adept while very young. It has been this way since ancient times. No one seems to know why that is.

Getting to build your own hive at a young age using whatever meandering design you chose likely has left you jaded to the notion of customizing your abode. You certainly wouldn't get all that worked up about a game that happened to allow you to do such a thing.

At least not for that reason.

**~Karkat: Examine neighborhood. **

_Karkat takes a look around. In the skies a pink moon and a green moon shine in crescents with the words "Hivebent" in bright red unviewable to him and all others on his planet. _

The lawnrings are empty. Blood skims the voids in your porous cranial plates, as if grazing the hollow of a threshed stem, or say, an abandoned cocoon. A sour note is produced. It's the one Agitation plays to make its audience squirm.

It is your sixth wriggling day, and as with all five preceding it blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

Look.

_Karkat flies into a rage. _

You don't have time for fancy poetry. It's almost as useless as those arm-swing flappy things on mailboxes, assuming you even knew what those were, which you don't. Trolls don't have mail. Mail is almost as useless as poetry to them. Poetry is the swing arm flappy dealy of words, and mail is the red tilty lever doodad of giving people shit.

Frankly you don't know about things skimming voids or grazing hollows or whatever. You've got AMBITION. You were meant to be a bigshot. To be in charge of something huge and really important, and to be totally ruthless about it. You just haven't found the dominion in which you're destined for greatness yet. Or even a vague concept of it. You haven't found your purpose. But you will tonight.

You stew in your own impotent aggravation in the cool dusk breeze. During the dark seasons, it remains dusk for most of the day. It can stay dark for many bilunar perigees at a time. But even if it didn't, you would still have this feeling...

You have a feeling it's going to be a long night.

**~Karkat: Go back inside.**

You head back into your block and hit up your computer station. No word from any of your loudmouth pals. No news is good news. Sweet music to your auricular sponge clots.

**~Karkat: Check out magazine.**

It's the latest issue of GAME GRUB.

This one appears to boast about "exclusive leaks". They all boast about that. You're not even really sure what it means.

**~Karkat: Check out DVD. **

It is a DVD of one of your favorite series, THE THRESH PRINCE OF BEL-AIR.

It's about a green threshecutioner cadet who sasses up the bluebloods in his flaysquad pretty good. Their blood is literally blue. Lousy snobs. But Troll Will Smith shows them all how to loosen up. He is pretty much your hero.

Troll TV shows have shorter titles than troll movies because TV is a much newer form of media in their society. Which is a good thing because it would be pretty hard to make this funny joke otherwise.

**~Karkat: Get down to business on the computer. **

Ok enough messing around time to get some work done and maybe a little programming or oh god. It figures that installing this new beta chat client would open the floodgates. All your moron friends are going to be hounding you relentlessly. Not that they needed an excuse before. You wonder what this chump wants.

**~Karkat: Answer troll. **

**[Show Pesterlog]**

terminallyCapricious [TC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TC: wHaT iS uUuUuP mY iNvErTeBrOtHeR?  
CG: WHAT IN THE SWEET ALMIGHTY TAINTCHAFING FUCK DO YOU WANT.  
TC: NoT a MoThErFuCkInG tHiNg BrO.  
TC: oThEr ThAn I bE cHeCkIn OuT hOw My BeSt MoThErFuCkIn FrIeNd Is At Yo.  
CG: I REALLY CAN'T STAND YOU AND I HATE HOW YOU TYPE, IT JUST BOTHERS ME SO MUCH, HAVE I MENTIONED THAT?  
TC: YoU SaY iT pReTtY mUcH eVeRy TiMe We TaLk YeAh.  
TC: but uh, i don't have to...  
TC: uhhh see?  
TC: but i mean man this feels so motherfuckin unnatural and shit.  
TC: YoU jUsT gOt To Be GoInG wItH wHaT fEeLs RiGhT aT wHeRe YoUr HeArT's Up In, YoU kNoW?  
TC: bEsT fRiEnD.  
CG: I WONDER WHAT KIND OF SHITTY THING I DID TO DESERVE SUCH AN AWFUL BEST FRIEND.  
CG: OR MAYBE WHAT TERRIBLE THING I'M GOING TO DO AND GET PUNISHED FOR IN ADVANCE.  
CG: MAYBE I'M JUST LIKE PREEMPTIVELY THE WORST FUCKING PIECE OF TRASH WHO EVER LIVED AND DON'T EVEN KNOW IT YET, BUT HEY LOOK, YOUR FRIENDSHIP IS EXHIBIT A I GUESS.  
TC: It'S sUcH a BeAuTiFuL tHiNg.  
TC: ThIs TrOlL dIsEaSe CaLlEd FrIeNdShIp.  
CG: FRIENDSHIP ISN'T A DISEASE SHITSPONGE.  
CG: IT'S LIKE...  
CG: A MISTAKE.  
CG: A BIG JOKE OF NATURE.  
TC: iT's A mIrAcLe.  
CG: OH NO, DON'T.  
CG: DON'T START WITH THE MIRACLES AGAIN.  
TC: MaN eVeRyWhErE i LoOk...  
TC: aLlS i SeE iS mOtHeRfUcKiN mIrAcLeS.  
TC: It'S sO sPiRiTuAl, AlL tHeSe mIrAcLeS aNd ShIt.  
TC: oK lIkE jUsT bE tAkIn tHiS fUcKiN tItS bOtTlE oF fUcKiN fAyGo I jUsT cRaCkEd Up OpEn.  
TC: AnD hOw It'S bEiNg AlL lIkE hIsSiNg AnD sHiT.  
TC: mOtHeRfUcKiN hIsSiNg MaN, wHo WeNt AlL aNd ToLd It To Do ThAt?  
TC: HoW wOuLd It EvEn Do ThAt, It'S cRaZy.  
TC: iT's A mIrAcLe.  
CG: IT'S CARBONATION YOU IGNORANT DOUCHE.  
CG: TRY GETTING SCHOOLFED SOME TIME INSTEAD OF SLURPING DOWN THAT WEIRD SWILL ALL DAY AND FONDLING YOUR STUPID HORNS.  
TC: No No BrO, i DoN't WaNnA kNoW, dOn'T eVeN tElL mE.  
TC: kNoWiNg ShIt JuSt StEaLs Up AlL tHe FuCkIn MaGiC fRoM mY mIrAcLeS lIkE a MoThErFuCkIn ThIeF.  
TC: AnD tHaT aIn'T cOoL.  
CG: THE ONLY MIRACLE IS THAT YOU LIKE THAT DISGUSTING SLUDGE, WHERE DO YOU EVEN GET THAT STUFF.  
CG: IT'S ALSO A MIRACLE HOW YOU DRESS LIKE AN IMBECILE AND ARE BASICALLY THE STUPIDEST ASSHOLE I'VE EVER KNOWN.  
CG: ACTUALLY YOU'RE RIGHT, THERE ARE MIRACLES EVERYWHERE, I'VE BEEN A FOOL.  
TC: sEe MaN, i Am StRaIgHt Up TeLlInG yOu.  
TC: MiRaClEs.  
TC: iT's LiKe, AlRiGhT, cOmPuTeRs, RiGhT?  
TC: WhAt ThE fUcK?  
TC: mIrAcLeS iS wHaT.  
CG: FUCK YOU.  
CG: FUCK YOU FOR ME JUST READING THAT.  
TC: AnYwAy WhAt'S uP wItH yOuR bAd SeLf, FoR sErIoUs HeRe.  
TC: iSn'T sOmEtHiNg BiG aLl GoInG dOwN?  
CG: WHAT?  
TC: i HeArD sOmEtHiNg bIg WaS gOiNg AlL dOwN.  
TC: JuSt AlL bE tElLiNg Me AlL wHaT mOtHeRfUcKiN iT's Up AnD aLl AbOuT.  
CG: STOP SAYING ALL. ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT TA'S THING?  
TC: yEaH! fUcK yEaH mAn, So MyStErIoUs.  
TC: I'm NeVeR bEiNg GeTtInG cEaSeD tO bE aMaZeD bY aLl ThEsE fUcKiN mYsTeRiEs LiFe'S gOt FoR uS.  
CG: UUUUUUGH.  
CG: ANYWAY, I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S UP WITH THAT.  
CG: MAYBE I'LL TALK TO HIM TONIGHT ABOUT IT. MAYBE I WON'T.  
CG: IT'S PROBABLY JUST ANOTHER ONE OF HIS PROJECTS THAT WINDS UP BEING COMPLETELY USELESS AND A HUGE WASTE OF MY TIME.  
TC: yEaH mAyBe BuT hE's YoUr BeSt FrIeNd ThOuGh So It'S aLl CoOl.  
TC: AnYwAy I tHoUgHt ThIs SoUnDeD lIkE a PrEtTy BiG mOtHeRfUcKiN dEaL mY mAn.  
TC: aAaUuUhHh...  
CG: WHAT.  
TC: Aw BrO nEvErMiNd, I jUsT fUcKiN dId LiKe To ScArE tHe ShIt OuTtA mYsElF hErE.  
TC: tHeSe DaMn HoRnS.  
CG: YOU'VE GOT TO GET RID OF THOSE THINGS.  
CG: THEY MAKE IT MORE EMBARRASSING TO KNOW YOU.  
CG: WHICH IS A FRIGGIN MIRACLE THAT THAT'S EVEN POSSIBLE.  
CG: LIKE, WOW, GOD SURE COOKED UP A DOOZY THERE.  
CG: TWINKLY EYED SON OF A BITCH JUST KEEPS YOU GUESSING, DOESN'T HE.  
TC: MaN yOu KnOw YoU wAnNa GiVe My HoRnS a GoOd SqUeEzE. :o)  
CG: ACTUALLY YOU KNOW WHAT WILL BE THE MIRACLE TO END ALL MIRACLES?  
CG: IT'LL BE IF I EVER MEET A KID I DESPISE MORE THAN YOU.  
CG: THAT WILL MAKE ME A MOTHERFUCKIN CONVERT.  
CG: I'LL SEE LIGHT SO BRIGHT I'LL NEED GC TO WALK ME AROUND SO I DON'T BUMP INTO SHIT.  
CG: SIGN ME UP FOR YOUR IDIOTIC CLOWN RELIGION OK.  
TC: hAhAhAhA yOu fUcKiN gOt It BrOtHeR!

_The perspective changes to some unknown juggalo looking troll. _

Whoa what the motherfuck, who's this motherfuckin' motherfucker?

It's cool, life is like that sometimes. It's full of mysteries. You'll be doing one thing then something else hits you just like that and you roll with it. That's what you do when life hands you lemons. You sure as fuck don't make lemonade because who the fuck knows where that fuckin' shit comes from?

It's squeezed out of miracles is where.

So what's this motherfucker's name?

**~Enter name.**

* * *

Ok, it looks like we'll be using the squiggly line thing instead of the less then sign. This works. I know I'll regret this later...

~calandoKeyboardist


End file.
